


Oddities of the Intriguing Sorts

by stresselephant



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A wierd mix of the book and movies, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Has Issues, Bilbo is done with your shit Thorin, Demisexual Bilbo, Hobbits are dicks, I slaughtered canon and now it's in a ditch somewhere, M/M, Skin-changer Bilbo Baggins, Slow Build, but mostly the movies, the old forest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stresselephant/pseuds/stresselephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brush with death leaves Bilbo as quite the odd Hobbit. Well, many would argue that he was no longer a Hobbit at all. He resides within the depths of the Old Forest, keeping himself isolated from the glares of Hobbits and the arrows of hunters. That was, however, until a Grey Wizard and an Unpleasant Dwarf appeared on his metaphorical doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

The ice pelted at their reddened and raw skin, as they forced one leg after the other through the white snow that had piled increasingly high through the harsh winter. Belladonna tightened her grip around her young child, and silently prayed that Bungo was still struggling behind her, and not buried beneath the wall of snow. She kept her eyes forward, staring determinedly at the widely swishing robes of the Grey Wizard; they had to reach this “Radagast” before Bilbo stopped breathing altogether. The winter had been harsh on them all, but young Hobbits’ were extremely susceptible to illness in these times. Most Hobbit children had the sense to stay inside, but Bilbo, her poor adventurous son, had wondered out into the harsh cold one too many times. Coupled with the lack of food, Bungo had found him collapsed on the kitchen floor. Bilbo had stopped moving an hour ago.

Gandalf, in his usual fashion, and stumbled upon his old friend just in time to wrap the shivering Hobbit in a blanket and lead the two parents out the door. She made a valiant effort to push her swirling emotions away and focus on the task at hand.

They were almost there. They had to be almost there.

Large trees caked in snow stood around them, doing little to combat the swirling and howling winds. Once she would have thought it beautiful, but now only saw it as a threat towards her child. She despised every push of wind that made it past her cloak to her son, wanting to lash out at the icy winds though she knew it impossible.

Belladonna jerked, startle as Gandalf’s crisp voice seemed to halt the taunting winds, cutting through them like one would paper.

“Radagast, I need your assistance immediately!”

She stopped, sparing a look around her to find the home of the apparent saviour of her only child. She felt Bungo brush up against her side, and sighed in relief that he was still alive. She would not know how to cope with the loss of both of her boys.

A house, a cabin like structure seemed to emerge from the white-wash of snow. It was made completely of wood, and light peered out from the windows. Gandalf picked up his pace towards the cabin, and the three Hobbits behind him hurried to the door. Swinging the crooked door open, Gandalf, Belladonna and Bungo stepped inside, the chill that has settled into their bones melting away at a steady pace.

“Gandalf, what brings you here?” Belladonna’s attention snapped over to a tall man, with a grey beard quite like Gandalf’s. He wore a stubby, brown hat which matched his long robes. The most striking feature about this man, however, was that he seemed covered in birds. They were perched on his head, his shoulders, and Belladonna could have sworn she could see the head of one looking out from beneath his hat. Casting a glance around this home, she immediately spotted an almost outrageous amount of animals crowded in the small living area. She would have found it intensely interesting, if she wasn’t holding her dying son in her arms.

“There is little time to wast-.“ Gandalf started, but was cut off as Belladonna leapt in front of him.

“Wizard, my son is dying. Gandalf here was telling us that you were one of the few that could heal him.”

Radagast’s attention was now on her, and he bent down awkwardly to look her in the eyes. If Belladonna had to describe him, she would say ‘quirky’, due to the seemingly uncontrollable twitch in his right eye that immediately caught her attention.

“Well yes I suppose could. Sent by Yavanna herself I was.”

“Then please, help my son.” She asked desperately. Belladonna, quickly unwrapped her cloak from around Bilbo, and let the Wizards eyes fall upon his limp body.

“Oh dear. Oh dear me, this is quite serious.” He looked up to Gandalf, and they seemed to communicate to each other through their gaze, “Has Gandalf told you of the consequences?”

“The what?” Bungo asked, looking in between the two Wizards.

There was a beat of silence as all eyes were turned to Gandalf. Radagast cleared his throat before shifting on the balls of his feet.

“I’ll take your son and get him ready for the process, Gandalf I would advise talking to these two.” Radagast held out his arms for the small boy to pass to him, which Belladonna did with only the slightest hesitancy. She and Bungo watched and he stood, balancing the absurd number of creatures upon him as he walked through the doorway to another room.

“Would you mind explaining yourself, Gandalf?” Bungo asked, frustrated at Gandalf’s infamous tendency of hiding information. Belladonna, who was quite use to this due to her many adventures with the Grey Wizard, just sat on the floor in exhaustion as she waited for Gandalf to begin.  
Gandalf followed her lead, finding a chair in the corner to rest in, and waited for Bungo to find his place next to the female Hobbit.

“As you know, Hobbit’s are the children of Yavanna. When Hobbits’ pass away, they do not pass into another world, but are instead reincarnated,” Gandalf paused to dig his pipe from his robes, “That fact is a little less known, as Hobbit generally have little thoughts towards what comes after death. Our young Bilbo is currently of the cusp of death, and his soul has already started to reincarnate. If we are to bring him back, then we may be seeing some after-effects.”

The Hobbits stared up at Gandalf in disbelief as he placed the pipe in his mouth; Belladonna knowing this to be a nervous habit of the Wizard.

“Well what kind of after-effects?!” Bungo spluttered.

“It’s quite possible that Bilbo will have to share his body with the animal of that he would become. It will still be Bilbo controlling both bodies, but he will become a skin-changer, of sorts. This is why I brought you here. I would not be able to manipulate Bilbo’s current skin to co-exist with that of an animal. Due to Radagast being a subject of Yavanna herself, he will have more sway in the matters of Hobbits.”

Belladonna bit her lip in anxiety. Bilbo would be the outcast of the Shire if this was to transpire. She knew from experience that anything different would be frowned heavily upon. However, Bungo was quite influential in the Shire due to being a Baggins, and could quite possibly protect Bilbo. Until himself passed, that was. Looking over to Bungo, she examined to cautions confusion on his face. It was unlikely he knew what a skin-changer was, but she knew if it involved his son, he would welcome it with open arms. Looking back at Gandalf, she met eyes with him. Gandalf was not one to meddle in the affairs of mortals for unnecessary reasons, even if it did involve an old friend’s son. So why was he doing all of this? If she had heard Gandalf right, her son was half dead.

“Why are you saving him if he’s already gone?” Belladonna asked cautiously, knowing it was unlikely she would be pleased with the answer.

Gandalf peered down at her. He seemed to come to a decision, leaning back in the chair tiredly.

“Because it would seem that Bilbo Baggins will play a crucial part in future events.”

“So Bilbo will become some sort of…hybrid of an animal?” Bungo spluttered in outrage.

Gandalf levelled him with a gaze, before dropping it to clean his pipe.

“My dear Bungo, I have found during my many travels that those who appear to be the oddest, tend to be the most humane. I would advise that you will take this to heart.”

~~

When Bilbo’s parent’s died, the deaths were tragically close together. Belladonna’s days of adventure had finally caught up to her, and within months Bungo passed too, harbouring a broken heart. Bilbo, at only the age of twenty, was left to fend off the wildly gossiping Hobbits which surrounded his family home.

“I bet he did it, he’s practically an animal anyway.”

“Poor Bungo, no wonder his heart failed him. If I was constantly around those two I wouldn’t be able to continue either.”

“Good riddance, insane the lot of them; one is even rabid animal!”

However, he held his head high whenever he left the Smial, and tried to continue life ignoring the vicious rumours. He tried to keep a tight control over his transformations, although this was made nearly impossible due to the lack of it he held.

One day in the middle of market, he change unexpectedly. This was, apparently, the final straw of the Hobbits’ tolerance and he was swiftly banished to the Old Forest, which was avoided by all folk. However, with the help of two certain Wizards he made a home there, yet he still mourned the loss of Bag End. Years passed, and with the slow acceptance of what he was, gained the full ability to change whenever he wished. He lived in quiet peace. That was, however, until a Grey Wizard and an Unpleasant Dwarf appeared on his metaphorical doorstep. And this is where our story begins.

~~

The Old Forest was silent as Bilbo slipped through the clutching branches of small plants. He casts glances around the lush greenery, keeping an eye out for the edible berries he knew grew in the area. It was quite a shame he couldn’t hunt for his food; a Rabbit would be sorely appreciated. But he only went to Bree for his meat, and he never liked going there too often if he could avoid it. Much too far for weekly trips, and much too crowded for his tastes. He had gotten too used to the isolation of the Forest, and in consequence he could not kill any animal that resided in here. He remembered the long winded lecture he had received from Radagast when he first found his place in here; the forest was much too sentient to just go gallivanting though it when it provided your daily shelter and protection. They were old rules, and Bilbo had to abide by them. Bilbo shuddered at the thought of the trees turning on him. No, thank you, he’d much rather have meat on occasion than being bodily attacked by forces beyond his comprehension.

He pushed past the long growing grass to arrive at where he had been heading towards. A blackberry plant stood tall and healthy above him, and Bilbo shifted so the pack slipped from his furred back. Concentrating, he started to feel his arms and fingers lengthen. Bones snapped into place, his face stretched and heaved back into order and suddenly, there was a Hobbit standing where a cream coloured fox had just been.

Bilbo tugged on his sleeves momentarily, still after all these years suspicious that one day he would change back without them covering him. He’d have to thank Gandalf once more for that handy spell when he saw him again.

Bending down, he scooped up the smallish sack that he’d stitched together to be able to hang over his fox’s back. It was always a good idea to change skin before venturing out of his home; quick escapes and all that. But there was one downside to his more agile form; the lack of opposable thumbs. Bilbo advanced on the bush and started to pick the berried off the vines, careful to avoid the stinging thorns that were littered across the stems. He dropped them into the bag and soon, he had rid the vines of the ripe berries. Placing the sealed bag back onto the ground, he changed back into the four legged creature, squirming under the bags so it slid onto his back. Making sure that it was somewhat secure, he set out again.

The cooling winds brushed against his fur, and Bilbo cast his gaze at clouds above him, which were slowly being bled through with pinks and purples. Sunset was approaching, and he would really like to have the fire started before night fell. He would venture out again tomorrow, he decided. He had not found much today; he had ventured out further for search of something different to his usual diet with no luck. He had enough food for a while yet, but he preferred to keep it stocked up, what with the average Hobbit diet he liked to keep up with.

He walked the well-known path back to his home, lowing his defences for the moment. When he got back, he’d crack out some Old Toby. The Gamgee’s still smuggled him some once and a while, he thought fondly. He was about to start wondering where he’d left his flint last night when his large ears twitched; he had heard voices. He slowed his pace, making sure to place his paws silently upon the ground as he inched closer. His eyes widened when he realised it was coming too close to his home to be a coincidence. His eyes shot towards another small path that led to the back of the large clearing. Silent as possible, he slipped in-between the tall grass. He sped up his pace, ears tilted forward to try and pick up the voices. There was a very good chance that a drunk Hobbit let slip to passing travellers that a skin changer resided in these woods. He would go at a very high price; dead or alive. If they had made it this far into the Old Forest, they had to be a formidable enemy.

He slumped forward in relief as he came close enough to recognise the voice, feeling slightly foolish about his paranoia. He had no doubt that one of the voices belonged to Gandalf. The other, however, he felt sure that he had never heard. But he trusted Gandalf not to lead anyone wishing him harm into the forest, and he threw caution to the wind as he abandoned the path and stepped into the clearing.

Bilbo blinked up at the person next to Gandalf in bafflement; a Dwarf was the last thing he expected to be accompanied by Gandalf. He stood levelled with Gandalf’s chest; not too much taller the he himself was. He had striking features, and was the complete opposite of the Dwarfs he had seen in his books. This was not a large bellied, stubby thing that he had come to acknowledge as ‘Dwarf’, but rather well-proportioned for his height. It was only then that he noticed the dark scowl on his face, and it was then that Bilbo started questioning that aforementioned trust in Gandalf.

“Oh Bilbo! There you are, we’ve been waiting quite a bit for you to show yourself.” Gandalf said cheerfully, looking down at the Dwarf in amusement. “Do you mind if we took a step inside? It’s getting rather late, it’s been a long walk.”

Bilbo took note of the Dwarfs doubtful expression and he played with the idea of refusing them in spite. But as it stood, he owed too much to Gandalf. And never let it be said that Bilbo abandoned his manners back at Bag End. He inclined his head, watching as Gandalf spun and strode into the mammoth sized tree. The Dwarf straightened, walking in behind Gandalf with a posture that screamed ‘snob’, making Bilbo dislike him rather instantaneously.

He followed the two in, changing back into a Hobbit as he did so, making sure to snag the bag off his back before it fell to the ground. Bilbo became hyper aware of his clothes; a basic cotton shirt with long legged pants. Completely unacceptable when one had company to entertain.

“I apologise for my attire Gandalf, I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors.” He said snippily as he strode through the ridiculously large, hollowed tree which he had made his home. The Forest had presented this to Radagast when he asked for a place where Bilbo could live. He had filled it with the possessions he had; his bed, bookcases, pots and pans, and ten large boxes which were all filled from food to his clothes.

“I assure you it’s no problem.” Gandalf said, taking a place on an armchair directly across the unlit fire pit.

“I’m sure.” Bilbo muttered, casting a quick glance towards to the Dwarf who had so far said nothing, before dropping his bag in his ‘fruit’ labelled box. He shut the lid, and looked around for his flint.

“So what brings you and your companion here?” Bilbo asked.

“Well, I thought you would readily appreciate this gift.” Gandalf said, pulling out a slab of dried meat from Valar knows where. Not that Bilbo particularly cared, walking over to accept it graciously.

“While I do really appreciate it, I have a feeling you have another motive Gandalf.”

“Do you now?” Bilbo made sure to avoid eye contact, knowing if he locked gaze with the twinkling eyes he would start smiling and probably go one whatever adventure the Wizard had planned for him. He place the meat on a wooden counter before walking towards the fire pit. Sitting down, he was about the strike the stone before the Dwarf finally spoke up.

“Are we not in a tree? Fire does not seem like the best idea.”

Bilbo grit his teeth at the condescending tone, letting out a snort and turning to face the scowling Dwarrow.

“It’ll take more than a few flames to burn the Old Forest. This place is older than your Grandmother.” He then promptly ignored The Dwarf’s outraged face, and Gandalf’s resigned and amused one.

Bilbo striked the flint, sending sparks into he already prepared pit. The leaves were the first to catch, spreading quickly to the twigs. Confident it would soon build, he stood and placed the flint where he had found it. It sat in the chair next to Gandalf, waving at the Dwarf to take the other.

“I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.” Gandalf said nonchalantly, staring into the flames.

“Are you now?” Bilbo asked with a frown. Gandalf couldn’t really expect him to do anything stupid…

Actually it was likely exactly what the Wizard expected.

  
It was then that the Dwarf started speaking.

“I am Thorin Oakenshield, King under the mountain. The Wizard has advised me to take you as my burglar.”

Bilbo blinked at the Dwarf.

“Excuse me, but did you just say ‘burglar’?” Thorin didn’t seem to bother that with a response, “I’ve never burgled anything in my life, thank you very much!”

“I thought as much.” Thorin said disdainfully. Bilbo never thought not being called burglar could sound so insulting.

He glared at Thorin before looking back over to Gandalf.

“And who would you have me steal from?”

“You have to understand that I would never place you into a situation I didn’t think you could handle.” Gandalf said slowly, bringing out his pipe to start cleaning it.

“What could possibly be so bad to made you say that?” Bilbo squinted suspiciously at the Wizard.

“A Dragon.” Thorin said bluntly, dragging back Bilbo’s attention.

“A Dragon.” Bilbo repeated.

“Indeed.” Gandalf muttered.

“….you want me to steal. From a _Dragon_.” Bilbo laughed incredulously. There was no way Gandalf could expect him to do that. “No no no no, no thank you. I find myself quite eager to stay right here, where no Dragons will ever, ever find themselves.”

“You have been here for too long Bilbo Baggins!” Gandalf glared at him, and Bilbo felt himself take in a startled breath, “Isolated in the Old Forest! I had hoped when I suggested this place as your refuge that it would not become a place for you to hide from the rest of the world.”

“Gandalf, do you re-“

“I have no wish to hear you defend yourself against the truth, Bilbo Baggins.” Gandalf eyes softened slightly, “You know well as I that this is not what Belladonna wanted for you. You cannot keep up this charade of peace. Dark times are coming Bilbo, and I know you have gathered this information. Trees whisper, especially in places such as these.”

Bilbo let out a sigh and slumped into his chair. Of course he knew, and forest was practically buzzing in anticipation.

“And will whatever this quest involves stop this?” He asked, pinching his nose.

“That is still yet to come,” Gandalf answered, “But this will certainly lessen the blow.”

“Fine,” Bilbo said, turning to Thorin. “Then tell me, why are we stealing from a dragon?”

What followed left Bilbo stunned, as he was treated to a tale that he could only imagine came out of a story book. A great Kingdom, falling to the might of a fire drake, and lost people who roamed Middle Earth for a home. Bilbo had to admit; it was quite the honourable cause for a quest such as this. But that didn’t mean he was eager to be roasted by a large lizard.

“I will have to think it over.” Bilbo eventually said, shifting his gaze towards his doorway. “You are welcome to stay the night, it’s not wise to enter the forest at night.”

“Quite right.” Gandalf said cheerfully, and Bilbo had a sneaky suspicion that the Wizard was convinced that he’d agreed to this insane adventure.

Bilbo stood, stretching out his back, “Whoever wishes to take the bed is welcome.”

“We cannot rob you of your bed, Halfling.” Thorin said. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him, fully convinced that the Dwarf would have been the type to take his bed at the first offer. He was also slightly offended at the ‘Halfling’ comment.

“It’s no problem.” The Hobbit waved him off, “I can sleep on the armchair with more ease then you could.”

Thorin looked mildly insulted at that, but Bilbo supposed that the Dwarf could be insulted by anything. Rolling his eyes, he spoke before Thorin could make a sweeping comment about the manners of Hobbits.

“Skin-changer.” The moment of comprehension and slight foolishness that appeared on the Dwarfs face highly satisfied Bilbo, before he caught sight of Gandalf heading towards the doorway.

“Where are you going?” Bilbo asked, worried.

“My dear friend, if the Old Forest could slay me in a single night I would have to renounce myself from the Valar in pure shame. I have some colleagues to collect, I shall return in the morning.” And with a swish of grey robes, Gandalf disappeared into the night.

An awkward silence was left between the Dwarf and the Hobbit.

“Do you want some tea?” Bilbo blurted out, and promptly started rambling, “I don’t have much at the moment; it’s been quite a while since I’ve bothered to go to Bree. But some nice tea leaves grow wildly on the outskirts of the forest.”

“I think I shall manage without tea.” Thorin said, giving Bilbo a strange look.

“Food…? I don’t suppose Dwarfs eat much in fruit or vegetables anyway. I do now have that meat however.” Bilbo busied himself with walking around the pit and towards where he had left the dried meat Gandalf had gifted to him. Probably for this exact reason he realised, sneaky Wizards.

“That would be appreciated.” The Dwarf replied, still with the same odd expression.

“Right.” Bilbo said to himself, grabbing a knife which resting next to the wooden bench. He was halfway through carving the meat when Thorin spoke up again.

“What’s your choice in weapon?” Bilbo paused. Throwing a confused look over his shoulder.

“Pardon me?”

“A weapon. Sword, Axe, Bow. I have not seen any here.”

“Er…none?”

“So you cannot fight?” The disapproving glare he received set his anger off again.

“I assure you I do not need brute strength to manage myself. I have you know there are creatures outside that door that you have only see in your night terrors, and none of them bend to steel. What you need is a sharp mind, something I’m beginning to think you lack with all your swords and axes.” Bilbo huffed, shoving the meat into the Dwarfs arms, viciously pleased with the outraged expression he had gained from the Dwarf.

Bilbo sat back into the armchair staring into the dying flames as it ate the remaining pieces of wood. Thorin had slipped into what Bilbo could only describe as sulking silence, looking at his meat as if it was going to chew him instead.  
They remained like that for a long period of time, Bilbo trying to ignore the second presence in his home as he watched the fire die slowly.

“Why is it not wise to enter the forest?” Bilbo’s eyes sapped up to Thorin, and apparently he was gotten over his pride enough to eat the meat.  
Bilbo sat back in his chair, casting a glance towards the door.

“Those who walk on two legs are not welcome. The brown Wizard, Radagast, would not go into much detail when I asked.”

“Then you’re allowed to because you don’t always walk on two.”

“Not exactly; Radagast had to ask the forest originally. Perhaps he even discussed it with Tom Bombadil; the….well ‘Lord’ isn’t the best word for it but it will have to do, of the Old Forest. The trees talk at night, sway without wind. But the biggest evil is Old Man Willow, he’ll lure you to him and put a spell on you before crushing you beneath his trunks.”

“And have you seen this ‘Old Man Willow’?” Thorin asked. Bilbo sent a confused look towards him, not expecting or understanding the sudden interest from the Dwarf.

“Well no, he usually only lures people, not animals. And I make sure to spend a large portion of my time outside in my other skin. Perhaps if I did get captured, I’d meet Tom Bomadil; he’s been known to rescue the rare Hobbit who wonders into the Forest. Though I suppose if I ever stumbled across a Barrow-wight he may also come to save me, though I think I’d rather stay away from both.”

“And with all that you don’t have a front door? Seems rather negligent.” Thorin said, casting a distrustful look at the doorway.

“I have the protection of two Wizards,” Bilbo shrugged, “I’m not too worried…most nights.”

“You’ve known Gandalf for long time, then.”

“Yes, since I was nine.”

Another awkward silence fell over them, before Bilbo quickly stood.

“Right then, I think this calls for bed time.” Bilbo promptly ignored the look he got for referring it as ‘bed time’ and shooed the grumpy Dwarf off his chair. “The bed is obvious to see, so I’m sure you don’t need directions.”

Bilbo only received a nod in acknowledgement before Thorin turned away and walked towards the bed. Bilbo cracked his neck leisurely before allowing the strange feeling of skin-changing to overcome him, and when he next opened his eyes he was shorter and fuzzier. Hopping back onto his armchair, he curled into a tight ball, tucking his snout under his tail. He heard the creak of his bed as the Dwarf climbed into it and willed himself to sleep, trying to ignore the trees that were talking outside his door.

~~

Bilbo blinked open his eyes hazily, tucking his paws closer to his chest. Through his tired mind, he could something shuffling and shifting around his home. Which of course didn’t make sense because he lived alone. About to fall asleep again, he realised what he had just thought. He lived alone.

Bilbo had never moved so fast in his life. He sprung to his feet with his heart thundering, fear sparking through him as he spun to face the noise, prepared to either fight or flee. A Dwarf stared back at him in shock, and last night rushed to the front of his mind. Of course there was a Dwarf in his house; he had invited him. Calming down immediately, he sat back, feeling slightly foolish.

“I apologise, it was not my intent to startle you.” The Dwarf said slowly. Bilbo’s eyes drifted towards what Thorin was doing. He seemed to be browsing the books and herbs piled on one of his three bookcases. Bilbo jumped from the chair, now fully awake, before changing back into a Hobbit.

“Bit early isn’t it?” Bilbo asked, sticking his head out of the door to check the time of day. It seemed to be barely after Dawn.

“Best you start getting used to it; while journeying we should be moving by this time.” Thorin said, stepping away from the bookshelf. Bilbo clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“I have not even agreed to it yet.” Bilbo sniffed, heading over to where he stored yesterday’s food. He opened the box and could have slapped himself when he realised he left the bag in there too. Taking is out, he removes the berries and placed the now stained bag on the wooden counter. Blackberry juice was terrible to get out of fabric.

“The Wizard seems confident.” Thorin replied bluntly, looking at the Hobbit in slight annoyance. Not quite wanting to get into an argument this early in the day, he decided to break the tension.

“So why were you so interested in my books?” He asked, popping a Blackberry into his mouth.

The distraction seemed to work as Thorin looked back towards the bookcase.

“It’s not so much the books, but why do you have a useless plant like Kingsfoil?” Thorin looked back to the green, floral plant.

“Well, I thought it was useless too, before Gandalf informed me of the healing properties. It grows rather a lot around here so it’s not hard to keep up a large stock. Goes to show that ‘useless’ things can be, in fact, quite useful if only one looks hard enough.” Bilbo pinned the Dwarf with a significant look, before turning away.

“You’re starting to sound like the Wizard.” Thorin huffed.

“Some would say that’s a good thing.” Bilbo stated, putting away the berries.

“And you?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo threw a grin over his shoulder, “It’s debatable.”

If Bilbo didn’t know any better, he could have sworn he saw Thorn’s’ lips twitch slightly into something that resemble a smile. More likely that the berry he just consumed was poisonous and giving him hallucinations.

Bilbo’s ears caught sound of loud, boisterous noises. Frowning, he strode out of the tree, only to be met by the concerning image of Gandalf being followed by a gaggle of Dwarves.

“What in the-“

“Bilbo, my boy!” Gandalf called over to him as he hurried over. Bilbo just looked on in shock.

“Gandalf, the forest isn’t going to appreciate this.” He warned, looking up briefly at the trees who seemed, for once, completely still.

“Then it is a wonderful thing that we are leaving soon. This, Bilbo Baggins, is Thorin Oakenshield’s company, and will soon be those you will be travelling with.”

This was great. Just peachy. Gandalf had practically tied his hands with the matter of going. The Dwarves, due to their outrageous number, had to move immediately. Bilbo did not want to think about what would happen to their number if they were left to be this loud here for more than a few hours. He had avoided an encounter with Old Man Willow for twenty years, and he didn’t wish to break that record quite yet.

Just then much to Bilbo’s surprise, two young Dwarves bounced in front of him, staring excitedly.

“Are you truly a skin-changer?” The dark haired one asked, too close to Bilbo for comfort.

“Er….yes?”

“That’s so amazing! Can you shape shift for us?!”

“Um, not right now?” Bilbo said uncertainly. He had not been approached with this much enthusiasm in many years, and he felt a tad out of his depth. Turning his attention to Gandalf, he tried to speak over the noise of the group of Dwarves, “Gandalf, what have you done?”

Bilbo’s question was suddenly cut off by a loud thunking noise, and he turned to see a very large Dwarf pull away from Thorin, who both seemed perfectly fine after slamming their foreheads together rather violently.

The Hobbits stomach flipped at the thought of the pain that would bring him and he prayed that no Dwarf would ever see reason to greet him like that.

“My dear Hobbit, I suggest you start packing.” Gandalf’s hands was placed on his shoulder and he felt the last of his resistance drop away. There was no arguing with a determined Wizard; this was an important lesson had learnt over the years. ”Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”  
Bilbo knew this wasn’t going to turn out well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo bonds with his Dwarves while also stumbling across some Trolls.

The Pony underneath him swayed as it walked, and Bilbo almost fell off for the third time. He couldn’t blame Myrtle for his ineptitude in riding however; she was remarkably tame. No, Bilbo would just have to hold on for dear life and pray that he could keep his balance. He was trailing behind the rest of the group, as they walked through the grassy hills.

To get in the direction they needed, they had to pass through the Shire’s Hobbit population. He kept the hood of his travelling cloak up, making sure to hide his face lest someone recognised him as ‘The Animal’. The last thing they needed on a quest like this was Bilbo holding them up because of old grievances. Though he did wish he could see the Gamgee’s before he left on the journey, for possibly forever as death was highly likely. He shuddered at the thought of that awful contract, ‘incineration’ indeed. 

When they arrived at Bree, night had fallen and Bilbo was thanking the fact that he’d chosen to wear thick, long pants and a travelling cloak that covered most of him. While not the highest in Hobbit fashion, he knew from experience that longs pants kept his shins much more protected in pretty much every situation; even if they did still feel odd to wear. He refused to cover his feet however, no matter how many odd looks he received from the Dwarves. Covering a Hobbit’s feet was borderline offensive. Their tough soles were more than a match for the terrain of Middle Earth.

Bilbo tugged his hood a bit lower when he recognised a few Hobbits laughing drunkenly towards the Prancing Pony. He had hoped he wouldn’t run into any other Hobbits, and considering that they barely left their Smials made the idea likely. However, it seemed like any luck he had possessed left him. Or perhaps he had used it all up surviving in the Old Forest. 

Thorin led them to the stables, and they tied up their mounts before heading inside. The warm, sweaty air washed over Bilbo and he fought the urge to hold his breath due to the pure thickness of what he was breathing. A mixture of foods seemed to waft through the air, and Bilbo tried his best to adjust to the vibe of a pub after nightfall. The Dwarves, however, seemed perfectly at home as they split into groups to either find rooms for them all or to find a drink for themselves.

Bilbo retreated to a spare table in the corner, tapping his fingers on the wooden, creaking surface as he cast a glance around him. Gandalf had immediately retreated to a room, and he prayed he could find Thorin to get the directions of the room he’d be taking. 

Before as he could as so much ponder where Thorin had disappeared to, two heavy bodies sat down across from him, with a third approaching timidly. 

“So, we couldn’t help but notice the hood.” Fili said with a grin, gesturing towards Bilbo.

Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead looking at the third Dwarf questioningly. 

“My name’s Ori. Sorry, you really haven’t gotten much of an introduction, have you?”

Pleasantly surprised at the Dwarfs politesse, Bilbo offered him a smile. 

“It’s no trouble, I’m sure I’ll get to know you all in time.”

Ori returned the smile, sitting down next to the Hobbit. Kili tried to shuffle closer, staring at Bilbo.

“So why are you hiding your face, Master Boggins?” 

“It’s ‘Baggins’.” Bilbo muttered, wondering if all this time Kili had been calling him that.

“Quite right, Master Boggins.” Kili said, smile widening. Cottoning on, Bilbo gave him a disapproving look. But if Bilbo could predict anything about Kili, it was that he wouldn’t care how many times Bilbo corrected him. 

“Well, Skin-changers are not the most common beings on this earth.” Bilbo said, sitting back in his seat. The two brothers shared a bit of a confused look before returning their attention onto the Hobbit.

“So?”

“So, that means I’m either very likely to be hunted or captured.” The three young Dwarves looked slightly horrified, “And I do not trust drunk Hobbits to not speak of such a being, or describe what it looked like when they last saw him.”

His audience dropped their chests closer to the table in an attempt to be subtle with their next words.

“Do you think anyone here may know what you are?” Ori whispered, sending a glance towards the merry gathering. 

“Possibly. This is the only non-Hobbit bar that I’ve ever known us to frequent in. And gossip spreads far, especially concerning magical creatures.” Bilbo said.

“Is there any way we can help?” Fili asked, concerned.

“Well, not acting like suspicious fools might help.” Bilbo said, and all three Dwarfs immediately straightened their backs. “It’s already bad enough with this cloak on, but I’d rather draw attention to it, than to my face. I do not look exactly like many other Hobbits.”

“I noticed that!” Kili perked up, “You’re short, but not as round.”

“Yes well, comes from years of cutting cakes out of your diet.” Bilbo muttered, wishing briefly that he could get his hands on some sweets. But if the Old Forest was no place for tea parties, then traveling with thirteen Dwarfs certainly wasn’t.

“Is there anything else different from you and other Hobbits?” Ori asked, wide eyed. Bilbo noticed him take out a note pad, but supposed that it wasn’t too harmful to let him take information. If he couldn’t trust Ori out of all the Dwarves then this was going to be quite the unpleasant journey.

“Besides being able to change my shape?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, “Well I don’t exactly adhere to the fashion of waistcoats, but that’s mostly due to necessity rather than preference.”

The three Dwarves nodded with a seriousness that was not deserving of talk about Hobbit clothes. Bilbo rose from the table.

“Do any of you know the rooms we’re staying in?”

~~

Over the next few days, Bilbo slowly got to know the brothers and Ori better. Apparently Fili and Kili were the princes of Durin, and were, in fact, Thorin’s nephews. Ori on the other hand told him of his own brothers, Nori and Dori, and a brief overview of where he grew up. If Bilbo didn’t have a reason to help the Dwarfs reclaim their land before, learning of the poverty they now lived in certainly was a good one. He also learned that Ori was the scribe of the company, and was in charge of documenting their journey. Bilbo wasn’t sure how comfortable he was about Ori recording him as a Skin-changer, but he was quickly assured that no mention of the Old Forest or the Shire was to be included. 

Their first night camping was when he met Bombur. The air was warm, and the company was either gathering wood to keep the fire going or sitting around relaxing. Bilbo hobbled over to the fire, incredibly sore from the continuous riding. He collected his bowl of soup from Bombur and settled down near the fire.

“Goodness gracious!” Bilbo muttered around a mouthful of food. 

“Is there something unpleasant about the soup, Mister Baggins?” Bombur asked gruffly, looking up from his work with a frown.

“No no no no, it’s quite good.” Bilbo reassured, “It’s just that I’ve not had anything as good in a long time.”

“Really now?” Bombur said, surprised. 

“Yes well, a sentient forest doesn’t do much good for regular hot meals.” Bilbo said, rejoicing in the taste of cooked, warm meat again. A smile lit up Bombur’s face.

“I’m pleased you like it.” He said, “Cooking is my true calling as a Dwarf.”

“Is that unusual?” 

“Very, but I find it more fulfilling than acts of war.” Bombur returned to the pot that hung over the fire, “But the quality will drop as the rations do, just to warn you.”

“I’m sure I will not mind overly much.” Bilbo grinned. 

They continued to converse over the food for the night, Bilbo telling Bombur of the foods he remembered having when he still lived in Bag End, and Bombur telling him of traditional Dwarven ones. If his interactions continued like this with the rest of the company, then perhaps he wouldn’t be an outsider for long. That thought cheered him up significantly.

Just then they were interrupted by the howl of a wolf. Or at least Bilbo liked to think it was, for it sounded all too familiar to the Wargs that plagued the Shire during that horrid winter. 

“What was that?” Bilbo said, throwing a glance over his shoulder. He may be fast when he wanted to be, but he sorely doubted he could outrun a Warg for more than a few paces. Bilbo should have recognised the twin grins of mischief he received immediately after he asked.

“Orcs!” Fili said over dramatically, his smirk brewing trouble, “Throat cutters. There’d be dozens of them out there. The low lands are crawling with them.”

Bilbo stared unimpressed, fully aware of what they were trying to do.

“They strike, in the wee small hours, when everyone’s asleep. Quick and quite, no screams. Just lots of blood.” Kili goaded, inching closer to Bilbo.

Bilbo was just about to inform them that he did, in fact, know what an Orc was thank you very much, when Thorin appeared from over his shoulder. His brow was creased in fury, pinning his nephews with his glare. The two boys seemed to shrink in on themselves when they noticed. 

“You think that’s funny? You think a night raid of orcs is a joke?” Thorin said, jaw squared with contained anger. Bilbo looked back to the boys, and felt vaguely sorry for them, even if they were just trying to frighten him. 

“We didn’t mean anything by it.” Kili said, looking down as his clasped hands.

“No you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up as Thorin turned on his heel and stalked over to the edge of the cliff they were camped on. Okay, so that may have been a little excessive of a reaction towards a prank. He looked back towards the brothers, whose eyes were cast towards the ground. 

He felt a wizened hand land on his shoulder and Balin settled next to him. He hadn’t properly spoken to the elder Dwarf as of yet, but he seemed pleasant enough company.

“Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs.” Bilbo looked over at the brooding Dwarf, before returning to Balin’s kind face. Balin started to weave a story about the Pale Orc and the battle of Azanulbizar. The slaughter of Thorn’s grandfather and his father Thrain, who was yet to be found. He learned of how Thorin earned the name ‘Oakenshield’, and the victory that was dripping in depression. 

“What happened to the pale Orc?” Bilbo asked, staring at Balin with wide eyed awe. Balin’s gaze flickered over to Thorin, and the reason became apparent as Thorin spoke up. 

“He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago.”

Bilbo stared at Thorin and complete silence came over the camp. It was then that Bilbo decided that Thorin had done just about as much brooding as he could handle for one night. Standing swiftly, he walked over to where the Dwarf sat, ignoring the other Dwarves signals, telling him to sit down before Thorin ate him alive.   
Bilbo sat next to Thorin and hung his legs over the side of the cliff, also ignoring the confused and agitated look the Dwarf shot him. It was dark, but one could still manage to see the darkened green hills and valleys that they looked over. He spared a thought towards how many Wargs there were around these areas, wondering why on earth they would be this close to the Shire. Bilbo started Digging around through his pockets of his cloak, making a small, satisfied sound as he found the last of his Old Toby. He was slightly hesitant about giving it away; he didn’t have much in the first place. Casting his concerns aside, he brought out his pipe, filling it before offering the weed to Thorin.

Thorin just stared at his, heavy shadows cast on his face as it twisted into something resentful. He jerked his head away, staring over at the hills and refusing to look at Bilbo.

“If you are doing this because you pity me, then leave before I make you.” Thorin said deadpanned, but Bilbo could see the edges frayed with underlining anger. Snorting, Bilbo glared at him.

“I don’t pity you,” Bilbo said, rolling his eyes. Of course that’s what the Dwarf would think. “I just feel like I’m beginning to understand you. Now take the bloody plant, it’s the best in the Shire and I’d hope you’d not make me regret it giving it to you.”

Silence fell and stretched once more. Thorin glanced back over at Bilbo, eyes dropping towards the offered hand. He seemed to debate with himself, and frankly Bilbo’s arm was getting quite tired from holding it up this long. Hesitantly, Thorin took it from his hand, giving him another one of those odd looks. He brought out his own pipe, and Bilbo noted it was much shorter than his own long and thin one. The two stayed in the now slightly more comfortable silence as they stared out at the bottle green landscape. In the corner of Bilbo’s eye, he could see Thorin start to slowly relax. It was only then that Bilbo truly noticed how tired Thorin’s eyes looked, and a string of empathy seemed to be created in that moment. Perhaps this was a step in the right direction, Bilbo thought as the moon glared down upon them 

~~

They had been travelling for a week when they had their first hiccup of the adventure. 

“Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves!” Gandalf’s outcry greeted Bilbo as he emerged from the surrounding forest with an armful of wood. His eyes widened as he saw the Wizard storm away, billowing his robes with an angry vengeance.

“Where are you going?” Bilbo called, unsure whether he should follow.

“To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense.” Gandalf snapped, stalking past him. A small smile graze Bilbo’s lips as he spun to face Gandalf, raising his voice.

“And who’s that?”

“Myself!” Gandalf spat.

“Fair enough.” Bilbo said, trying to hold back a snicker of amusement. 

Bilbo dumped the wood next to the newly constructed fire pit. Finding a place to sit, he leaned back, deciding to get a nap in before dinner was passed around.

He was shaken awake a short time later by Bombur, who held out two bowls of soup.

“Could you bring this to the boys?” He asked.

“Sure.” Bilbo yawned, standing to take the bowls. His mind heavy with sleep, he walked towards where they had left the Ponies. Fili and Kili had gotten the duty of watching the mounts before he was sent to collect wood, and assumed they were still there considering they were absent from the group. Kicking his way through the shrub, he spotted the young Dwarfs standing next to each other, looking towards the same direction. 

“Hello, I brought you dinner.” Bilbo said, making his way over.

“…thanks Bilbo.” Fili muttered, making Bilbo frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well,” Kili started. “We seem to have a slight problem.”

“Which is?”

“We had fourteen ponies,” Fili said, not taking his eyes from what Bilbo could now see was a fallen tree, “and now there’s only eleven.”

“What?!” Bilbo exclaimed, shoving the bowls into the others hands as he gave his full attention to the area they were examining. The destruction he saw was not reassuring; the tree had fell recently, and looked like something heavy had caused it. “Well whatever took them was large, going by that tree. I’m going to tell Thorin-“

“No!” Kili shouted, spinning to face Bilbo, “We were supposed to be taking care of the ponies, he’s going to kill us! We need to do this…subtly.”

“Good luck with that, you Dwarfs couldn’t be subtle even under threat of death.” Bilbo scoffed.

“Well then, it’s wonderful that we have our residential burglar right here!” Fili grabbed Bilbo by the shoulders, and he felt his blood run cold for a moment.

“Oh no, no no no, no. That’s an awful plan and we should really consider-“

“Look! I see a light.” Kili interrupted, running towards it.

“Come on, Master burglar!” Fili said, dragging him towards what looked like fire. This was a terrible, awful idea, and Bilbo was only proved right when they stumbled upon three gargantuan Trolls. Bilbo’s eyes flickered over to the crude fence behind the Dwarfs and cursed when he saw Myrtle was one of the three ponies who had been taken. 

“Master Boggins, you have to save those ponies.” Kili said, trying to nudge Bilbo out from behind the boulder they were hiding behind.

“Don’t you-“

“Yeah, Master Bilbo! Just change into your other skin, we’ll be right behind you.” Fili joined in. Bilbo could feel himself getting annoyed rather quickly. 

“Now listen here-“

"If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl." The two Dwarfs were about to escape, but Bilbo was too quick for them. Darting his hands out, he caught both of them by the collars before yanking them towards him. They stumbled slightly, now very close to Bilbo’s frustrated face. 

“No I will not! Honestly, when a Dwarf comes up with a good plan will be the day I die of shock! I will go in, but you have to swear to me that you won’t go stumbling in after me and act like complete fools. You go back, inform the rest of the company of what I’m doing, and wait until I return with the ponies. Do you understand?” At their twin nods, Bilbo released them. He noticed something different in they looked at him when they met eyes, but Bilbo had no time to consider it before they both turned and ran back the way they came.

Bilbo took a deep breath, and peeked out from behind the rock. 

“Mutton yesterday, mutton tonight, and blimey if it don’t look like mutton again tomorrow!” Said one of the trolls. They were all sitting around a huge cauldron, and Bilbo spared a thought to where they had gotten one the size of three Dwarves. Each of them smelled awful, and Bilbo was reluctant to transform into his more odour sensitive form. 

“Quite your whining; these ain’t sheep, these are West Nags.” Another said, shifting in his seat.

Bilbo crouched, and let himself change. The smell of the Trolls hit him like a brick, and he felt his long ears flatten is displeasure.

“Aw, I don’t like horse, I never have. Not enough fat on them.” This troll’s voice was almost comically high in comparison to his size. It sniffed, rubbing its nose over its short, stubby hand. 

“Better than that leathery old Farmer, all skin and bones he was. Still picking bits of him out of my teeth.”

Bilbo started circling around to the horses, belly lowered to the ground in an attempt to make himself smaller. Conscious of where he placed his feet, he silently hopped over dried leaves and twigs, weaving his way through the undergrowth. Bilbo was in his element, practiced in dodging noise through a forest. Then, much to the Hobbit’s displeasure, he caught sight of the nasally Troll sneeze into what Bilbo assumed was stew. 

“Oh that’s lovely that is, a floater! Might improve the flavour.”

Bilbo was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten dinner as his stomach flipped in disgust, barley holding back the urge to gag.

“There’s more where that came from!”

“Oh no you don’t!” The Troll who was stirring grabbed the other’s nose, and held him up, before throwing him back onto the fallen tree trunk they were using a seats. “Sit down.”

Bilbo trotted up next to then holding pen and eyed the crudely knotted rope which was holding the gate. He threw a glance over his shoulder, making sure none of the Trolls would notice, before turning back into a Hobbit. He tugged at the rope, hoping that it would come apart easily. It didn’t.

“I hope you’re gonna gut these Nags. I don’t like the stinky parts.” Bilbo caught one of the Trolls turning to face him, and he quickly ducked behind one of the huge pillars of wood that made the fence. 

“I said sit down!” The Troll that seemed to be the cook turned the other back around, and Bilbo let out a steady breath. Bilbo glanced around slightly desperately for something to cut the rope.

“I’m starving! Are we having horse tonight, or what?”

“Shut your cake-hole. You’ll eat what I give ya’”

“How come he’s the cook? Everything tastes the same; everything tastes like chicken.”

“Except the chicken.”

“That tastes like fish.”

Bilbo’s eyes landed on the Hobbit sized knife that hung from the nasally Trolls loin-cloth, and felt himself wince. There was nothing for it, he’d have to take the knife. He’d have to remind himself to get himself one somewhere during their journey, he’d rather not have to repeat this scenario. 

“Some appreciation would be nice, ‘thank you very much Bert! Lovely stew Bert!’ How hard is that?”

Crouching low, Bilbo inched his way towards the Trolls.

“Just needs a sprinkle of Squirrel dung.” Said Bert. The Troll who had sneezed into the food turned, and Bilbo cursed under his breath as he dived behind a large tree trunk. The troll grabbed what seemed to be a very large tankard, but was intercepted by Bert. 

“Hey, that’s my grog!”

“Sorry- ow!” Bert hit him with the spoon, the nasally Troll falling backward before scrambling back up. Bilbo closed his eyes momentarily, amazed by their complete stupidity, before he stated to advance upon them again. Bilbo reached out for the knife, grabbing the large hilt and started slipping it out from the belt. He caught sight of Bert taking a sip of the broth, and Bilbo winced internally. 

“That is beautifully balanced, that is. That’s why I’m the cook.”

The Troll he was practically under leaned forward to sip from the spoon, and Bilbo managed to pull the knife out, stumbling slightly under the weight. He allowed himself to feel triumph as he crouched again and started slowly backing away. 

“Come on, I’ve got to snuffle something. Flesh, I need flesh!”

Just then, Bilbo saw a large, dirty hand dart out, and Bilbo barley managed to hold in a yelp as he threw himself to the ground. The hand grazed his back, but picked up what seemed to be a giant handkerchief instead. Bilbo could have wept in relief when he heard the Troll sneeze into what he picked up, and silently thanked his quickened reflexes.   
He adjusted his grip on the handle as he stood, backing up towards the horses. He heaved the knife up, cutting his way through the rope. It fell away, and Bilbo slowly swung the gate open. The Ponies stamped their feet in agitation and Bilbo tried to hush them. Grabbing onto their reigns, Bilbo quickly tied them all together before leading Myrtle out of the gate. The others followed as they slowly entered the surrounding forest, and Bilbo thanked Valar that the Trolls hadn’t noticed yet. All he had to do now was get to the company and make a plan to-

He heard something burst through the trees on the other side of the clearing. 

“What have you done to him?!”

Bilbo felt himself freeze. Oh no. Oh no no no, please no. Kili did not just do that. Quickly as he could,   
Bilbo tied the ponies to the nearest tree. Turning back around, he cursed as he caught Kili doing exactly what he had told him not to. 

“Who are you?” Bert grunted.

“Oh, I haven’t had Dwarf in a while!” Exclaimed the high-pitched Troll, reaching towards Kili. Bilbo felt his throat constrict and was about to throw himself into the clearing to help when twelve Dwarfs did it for him. The forest erupted into chaos, and the Dwarves seemed to be annoying the Trolls more than hurting them. Bilbo felt slightly useless, watching the Dwarfs flip, spin and cut their way through the battle. It was then that he noticed Bert’s hand come towards a distracted Thorin, who was trying to keep an eye on his nephews, at an alarming speed. Bilbo reacted. 

Bilbo didn’t even notice his body change as he darted out towards Thorin, ducking under Troll legs and over tree roots. He leapt, half way through transformation as his Hobbit body slammed into the Dwarf, sending them both sideways. They both avoided being crushed under the hand, but the Trolls knuckle clipped Bilbo’s side and he went sprawling. He rolled over stones and branches, and when he came to a stop he almost buckled with the throbbing pain. Bilbo gasped, stones digging into his back as he clutched at his side.

“Oi, William! This one’s a Skin-Changer-er!” Bert yelled in surprise, instantly gaining the attention of the other two Trolls.

“You’re kidding me!” Said William, abandoning his fight with Dwalin, Kili and Gloin. The advancing, thundering footsteps kicked Bilbo back into awareness.

Ignoring the screaming pain in his side, he tried to scramble up. Just as Bilbo stood, a large, dirty hand snatched him from the ground. 

“Put down your weapons, or the Skin-Changer gets it!” William shouted at the Dwarfs who had tried to come to Bilbo’s aid. He felt two hands grab at his arms and legs, stretching him in ways that his body was never meant to. Looking down, he saw he was being held above the boiling pot of snot induced broth and Bilbo felt bile rising in his throat; there was no way he could escape. 

He looked back down towards the Dwarves and took in Thorin’s furious expression. Oh god, he was going to die. He was going to die because there was no way they were going to put their weapons. He was going to die because Thorin bloody Oakenshield had too much pride and he-.

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as Thorin viciously threw his sword down, soon followed by the rest of the company. Bilbo continued to stare in shock as they were shoved in sacks and piled upon one another, each shouting insults at the Trolls. 

Then the attention returned to Bilbo. 

“You know, I’ve heard about your type. Not many around now, eh? I’m excited to eat a rare creature, what other Trolls can say they ate a Skin-Changer?” Bert said.

“Are we going to put him in the stew?” 

“May as well, Tom.” Said William, “Spread him around equally. Make him nice and tender.” New verbal abuse rose from the Dwarfs as Bilbo started being lowered towards the stew.

“Wait!” Bilbo yelled, not really expecting them to stop suddenly as they did.

“It can talk?!” Bert said, and Bilbo was lifted away from the boiling mixture, “What is it?”

“You….You’re making a mistake!” Bilbo said, thinking fast.

“What do you mean?” Asked William, squinting suspiciously at him.

“Well, you don’t know much about Skin-Changers now, do you?” Bilbo said, eyes darting to each of the flat faced Trolls. 

“So?” Asked Tom, coming closer to Bilbo.

“You can’t eat Skin-Changers. Our skin is…it’s poisonous!”

“Poisonous?!” William yelped, throwing Bilbo from his hands. Bilbo slammed into the ground, winding him as his side burned in pain.

“Yep!” Bilbo gasped, “Completely inedible!”

“Well then, do we just kill you then?” Tom said, grabbing a boulder.

“No!” Bilbo yelped, struggling to his feet, he desperately needed to stall for time. “There’s a proper way to prepare Skin-Changers….for eating.”

“Oh yeah, and why are you telling us this?” William asked, advancing on him. Bilbo stumbled back, tripping over his feet.

“W-well, my kind are so rare, if I’m to die I should go out as something delicious…?” It sounded more like a question then a statement, but the Trolls seemed to fall for it, each nodding seriously.

“Then how can we eat you?”

“You….y-you have to skin me first!” Bilbo valiantly tried to ignore the shouts of protests from the surrounding Dwarves. 

“Halfling, stop!” Thorin thundered, struggling to get out of his sack next to his nephews, who were doing the same thing. 

“He’s not poisonous!” Kili shouted in desperation.

“Tom, get the knife!” Bert called over his shoulder. 

Bilbo took a deep breath in preparation, standing back up and tensing his body. We waited until each of them had their attention on Tom, who was looking for his knife in confusion.

“But first you have to catch me.” Suddenly, Bilbo was on all four paws, darting around the shocked Trolls. They let out a roar in outrage, swiping their huge arms to try and grab him. Bert’s hand slammed down beside him, making Bilbo jump to the side in fright. Dodging another groping hand, he ran as close to the cauldron as he dared, avoiding the licking flames as he placed it in-between him and the trolls. Bilbo’s heart thundered in his chest, and was ready to dash away again just as something horrible happened. Tom bumped the stew. 

Dwarf, fox and Troll stared, horrified (some for different reasons) as the caldron rocked, before tipping as if in slow motion; right towards Bilbo. Quickly as his paws could carry him, Bilbo leapt back as far as he could go as the green stew spilt out towards him. It was still boiling as it hit the ground, spreading out into the dirt. But Bilbo had not gone far enough, and his front paws landed directly in it.

Bilbo let out an ear splitting yowl as his paws burned like never before, scrambling backwards in a blind panic to escape the spreading mixture.

“Now look at what you’ve done! Gone and ruined my dinner!” Growled William, stomping towards the injured Skin-Changer. Bilbo had almost given up hope when a literal ray of it poured into the clearing.

“The dawn will take you all!” Shouted Gandalf as he raised his staff.

“Who’s that?”

“Can we eat him too?”

With a loud crack, light streamed onto the Trolls. Bilbo momentarily forgot his blistering paws as he stared at the Trolls in shock. Upon contact with the sunlight, their skin hardened, joints locking into place. Soon, the company remained staring up at three stone statues. 

Triumphant laughter rose up from the Dwarves, but Bilbo’s attention snapped back to his paws. The pain in his side was trivial compared to this, and he sat back on his haunches to remove the pressure from his fore paws. He did not want to know how this injury translated into his Hobbit form.

Soon, the Dwarves were free from the sacks, and he saw Òin storming up towards him. Taking this as his cue to transform, he did, trying not to look at his hands. 

“Let me see it, Lad.” Òin said, and Bilbo held out his hands reluctantly. Though Òin was the company’s healer, Bilbo was reluctant to let anyone touch. The Dwarf ‘tsked’ upon seeing it.

“Glòin, could you go fetch me my supplies?” He asked, turning to face the red-headed Dwarf. Glòin nodded, and disappeared into the surrounding forest. 

Bilbo was bustled towards the large tree root he had used as shelter earlier before being sat down, awaiting Glòin’s return. It was then that Bilbo noticed two guilty Dwarves approach him. 

“Did I not tell you to wait?” Bilbo growled, watching both as they shifted slightly.

“We know, Master Bilbo, but we couldn’t just leave you to fend off three Trolls by yourself!” Kili said, staring defiantly at Bilbo.

“I wasn’t ‘fending them off’,” Bilbo said, rolling his eyes, “I was getting the Ponies. I had faith that you would trust me to do that.”

“We’re sorry, Master Baggins.” Fili said, “We did try, but when we told Thorin what you were doing he wouldn’t wait for you. We didn’t exactly put up a fight, not when you were in danger.”

“Of course it was Thorin.” Bilbo muttered, sending a glare at Thorin who was currently talking to Gandalf.

It was then that Glòin returned, and Bilbo was swiftly patched up with a sticky bandages.

“You’re lucky.” Òin said, “On a quest to kill a Dragon I prepared for burns. And yes I did see how you took that hit from that Troll; off with the shirt.”

As Bilbo struggled out of his shirt, the other Dwarfs started searching for the Trolls’ hoard. Not the least bit interested in Troll gold, Bilbo had no problems staying put. Bilbo finally managed to pull off the offending garnet, and froze in place when he could have sworn he felt with ribs creak in protest. Òin poked and prodded the quickly forming bruise, and Bilbo tried to keep still at the stabbing pains. 

“Well, your ribs are still intact, but bruised.” He dug around in his bag before pulling out a small glass bottle full of a sickly brown paste, “Made this myself, so we know it’ll get the best results.”

Smearing it on his hand, Òin reached towards Bilbo’s exposed chest. The Hobbit shuddered as it was spread along his skin, the unusually cold mixture sending Goosebumps along his skin. Bilbo’s torso was also wrapped tightly in a bandage, and to Bilbo’s relief the pain lessened. Òin started to re-pack his medical bag and Bilbo took this as an invitation to shrug his shirt back on. 

“Now, is there any chances those bandages will stay on when you do your Skin-changing thing?” Òin asked over his shoulder. Bilbo looked down at his bandaged hands; they would probably disappear to where ever his clothing did.

“Not in the slightest.” 

Òin nodded like he expected this.

“Then you’re banned from Skin-changing until that heals, got it?” Bilbo nodded in agreement, knowing he was telling an outright lie and not caring in the least. 

The other Dwarfs started to flood back into the clearing, talking excitedly about the gold they had found, and Bilbo noticed a new sword strapped to Thorin’s side which looked suspiciously Elvish.

“Ah, there you are Bilbo.” Said Gandalf, striding to his side. He held out a blade in front of Bilbo, and the Hobbit eyed it curiously. “This is about your size.”

“What? You want me to take it?” Bilbo asked, surprised as he looked at the sword; the curve of the blade seemed to imitate the shape of a leaf.

“Of course. On a journey such as this, one needs a weapon.” Gandalf said jovially, letting Bilbo take it and the scaffold from his hands. Strapping the scabbard to his waste, he adjusted to the new weight. He mentally checked off ‘get a blade’ from the list he had made forty minutes ago. “It’s of Elvish make; it will glow blue when Orcs or Goblins are nearby.”

“I’ve never used a sword before.” Bilbo muttered. 

“And I hope you never will. But if you do, remember this: true courage is not knowing when to take a life…but when to spare one.” Gandalf said, and Bilbo had to look away. There was an intensity in the way Gandalf had looked at him; as if he expected something great.

“Something coming!” Dwalin yelled, breaking the tension. They ran to each other, huddled close as the Dwarves pulled out their weapons. 

The trees gave a shudder just before something large burst forth from the low hanging leaves, screaming as it went.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” It came to a sudden stop, and quite unexpectedly Bilbo was left staring up at the ruffled image Radagast the Brown. He was standing in what appeared to be a sled, pulled by about a dozen large rabbits. 

“Radagast?!” Bilbo said, “What are you doing here?”

Radagast seemed just as shocked as Bilbo was when his eyes landed on the Hobbit. 

“Bilbo? I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Radagast blinked down at Bilbo, and appeared like he was going to say something else when his eyes snapped towards the other Wizard, “Gandalf, I was looking for you. Something’s wrong, something’s terribly wrong!”

“…yes?” Asked Gandalf cautiously, approaching the frazzled Wizard.

It was then that Radagast pulled a stick insect from his mouth, and despite the dread that had settled into his stomach, he couldn’t help but feel slight affection for the eccentric Wizard. He had not changed even slightly in the years Bilbo hadn’t seen him.

“I must speak to you; both of you.” Bilbo’s eyes shot open in surprise when Radagast’s gaze fell on him. Being included in ‘Wizard Business’, as Gandalf had always put it, was quite odd. Gandalf nodded, glancing down and Bilbo before leading the two further into the forest, and away from the Dwarves. 

Bilbo had a sneaking suspicion that whatever this was about had to do with whatever those damned trees kept whispering about in the dead of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 words more than the last chapter, which was a little bit of a surprise. I was going to write until they reached Rivendale, but decided to stop here. 
> 
> Btw what a response to the last chapter! Thank you all of you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '“Warg scouts.” Thorin said, pulling his sword from the skull of a third Warg, “That means an Orc pack isn’t far behind.”  
> Bilbo’s blood ran cold as his eyes made contact with Thorin’s. 
> 
> “Orc pack?!” Bilbo said, tensing his shoulders.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind that I'm Australian and spell differently to all yall Americans out there. Also, I'm awfully sorry about this chapter being abysmally late, but I kinda started going to College and wOW the workload is insane.
> 
> (And yes I did change some of the spelling to American 'cause JESUS I get a lot of messages saying I'm spelling words wrong when I'm not, so I just decided to go along with American spelling on words that get me the most messages. Just going with the flow and whatnot.)

Bilbo’s hands throbbed in pain as he followed the two Wizards, holding them to his chest. Now that the adrenalin had worn off, he could now fully appreciate the awful ache that travelled from his palms and up his arms. Whatever sticky substance Òin had placed on the bandages seemed to be helping, but the intense heat that was coming off his hands combated the soothing components of the medicine. Bilbo tried to ignore it when he noticed that Radagast had stopped and turned to them. 

“The Greenwood is sick, Gandalf,” Bilbo felt his eyes widen in disbelief; he faintly remembered Greenwood being where the Elven king resided. Bilbo would have thought it impossible for it to become ill. “A darkness has fallen over it. Nothing grows in it, at least not anything good.”

“Wait,” Bilbo said, stepping up to his old friend, “What does the Old Forest have to do with this? Or at least I’m assuming that’s why I’m being included in this.”

Radagast looked gravely down at Bilbo.

“After I found Gandalf, I was going to give you warning. It’s spreading; the worsts are the webs.”

“Webs?” Gandalf inquired, eyebrows rising above his hat.

“Spiders, giant ones. Some kind of spawn of Ungoliant, or I’m not a wizard. They have corrupted everything. The trees, the land itself turns evil. The animals are being poisoned, if they are not warped into some kind of abomination. I’ve been able to combat it for only so long.”

Bilbo felt like he’d been punched in the chest.   
“But the Old Forest can’t be corrupted, it has too many powerful spirits in it.”

“That, Bilbo, is exactly what makes it so dangerous.” Gandalf and Radagast shared a look, and the full magnitude of the situation fell over Bilbo. That damned Forest was always too powerful, but what would happen if it were to be corrupted? Bilbo shuddered, thinking of Wraiths and talking trees and the vulnerable Hobbits living on the boarder. It would be chaos; it would be slaughter. 

“Well what should I do?!” Bilbo felt himself start panicking slightly “D-do I leave? Oh Valar, what about the other Hobbits?!”

“The sickness has not spread that far as of yet, but I believe it can be stopped before it does.” Radagast turned to Gandalf, “I followed their trail. They came from Dol Goldur.”

“But the old fortress is abandoned.” A beat of silence fell through the clearing, and Radagast locked eyes with Gandalf.

“No Gandalf, it’s not.” 

“I’m sorry, but what is causing this?” Bilbo asked, looking between the two Wizards.

“Hopefully not whom I’m suspecting.” Gandalf muttered, almost to himself. Bilbo stood uncertainly, not sure on how he should press the issue. He suspected the Wizards weren’t telling him everything. But by the finality in the air, the Hobbit figured that’s all that they were going to say on the subject.

A howl broke through the silence, and Bilbo jerked, spinning around. His eyes widened when he heard swords being drawn and dark, foreboding growls. With jerky pained movements he ran towards where they had left the Dwarves, arriving in time to see Kili land an arrow in a massive creature and Dwalin slam his axe down upon the head on another.   
“Warg scouts.” Thorin said, pulling his sword from the skull of a third Warg, “That means an Orc pack isn’t far behind.”

Bilbo’s blood ran cold as his eyes made contact with Thorin’s. 

“Orc pack?!” Bilbo said, tensing his shoulders. 

“We need to get moving.” Gandalf said, drawing his own sword.

Ori and Nori came sliding down a slope near to the group, looking distressed.

“We can’t, all the ponies have bolted.”

“No, we still have three.” Bilbo said quickly, “I tied them up near the clearing. If anything we should still have some supplies left on them.”

“I’ll distract the Orcs.” Radagast said, drawing everyone’s attention to him as he climbed back onto his sled.

“You cannot outrun an Orc pack.” Gandalf said stiffly, “They will catch you.”

“These are Rhosgobel Rabbits,” Radagast gave a mischievous smile that Bilbo knew all too well, “I’d like to see them try.”

“So be it,” Thorin said reluctantly, “Dori and Gloin, go untie the ponies. With only three they will slow us down more than they will aid us. Halfling, go with them and lead them to where you left the ponies. Gather the supplies and meet us back here. And hurry, we do not have much time.”

And with that, they set out. The ponies were not hard to find, and with a small, regretful pat of Myrtles nose, Bilbo dragged the supplies off her back. Untying them from the tree, they bolted away. Bilbo supposed they had smelt the danger in the air. 

In almost no time, they returned to the others, and Radagast took off as quickly as he had entered. The strongest of the Dwarfs shouldered the packs that remained, and they too took their leave. 

Bilbo ran, clothes snagging on branches that hung through the path. The thicket of bushes only got denser, and Bilbo let out a frustrated noise as his sleeve got caught and held him back. He was getting sick of this quickly and, throwing caution to the wind, changed into his other form. He could practically feel Òin dirty look burning into his back, but he had no time for that. Ignoring how his paws were screaming in pain, he doubled his speed.

Soon, he was at the front of the group, running next to Gandalf, Thorin and Dwalin.

They stopped at the tree line, and Bilbo’s heart sunk at the sight of a clear field. They would be out in the open, but they could not stop. 

“Follow me!” Gandalf shouted, running out from the tree line. They all burst forth, running madly towards a large boulder that stood up from the ground. 

They all ducked behind it, stopping when Gandalf held up a hand. Bilbo’s ears twitched, hearing the resounding echoes of Radagast taunting of the Orcs. The sled passed them momentarily from about two hundred meters away, before circling back. Radagast, somehow, seemed to know where the company were are where to lead the Orcs away. They set out again, Bilbo sticking close to the billowing robes of the wizard. They continued this a few more times, and Bilbo had started to regain hope. That was however, before the winds changed directions. 

Five Wargs broke away from the pack, throwing their heads around in confusion and sniffing the air. Their riders tried to lead the Wargs back to the hunt; kicking their hides. But the giant beasts ignored this, their eyes locking onto the rocks moments before the last Dwarf, who was holding one of the packs, ducked behind the boulder the company was behind. The supplies had slowed them down by only seconds, but that was all that the Wargs needed to see them. 

Gandalf pushed them into the rock they were currently hiding behind as the Wargs approached. The first one leapt over, the large animals’ belly flying over them. Kili let out a quick arrow that sunk into its shoulder. Dwalin buried his axe into its head before the other four leapt over the rock, facing them with snarling teeth.  
Bilbo could feel his heart pounding in his chest as his breathing sped up in fright, ears flattening to his skull. 

He darted his eyes around desperately before they landed on a smaller boulder not far away. It wouldn’t bring cover to a Dwarf, but it certainly would a fox, especially with what looked like a small crawl space between the rock and the ground. The Orcs were snarling at them from atop their Wargs, and Bilbo realised that it was unlikely that they would get out of this without someone being injured. Or at least if they survived this fight, they would draw the attention of the remaining pack. Bilbo swallowed nervously; it was unlikely many of them would survive that fight. 

What was likely, however, was that the Wargs would chase after sudden movements. 

Bilbo made a snap decision. He bolted from his place next to Gandalf and away from the company. Bilbo didn’t know if they had called after him; he hadn’t heard. His heart was the only thing in his ears as it pounded, contested in speed only by his feet. 

The Wargs had taken the bait, and Bilbo could feel them snapping at his heels, their growls and warm breath running up his back. He was choking on his own panic as he darted, legs moving until they blurred, towards the relative safety of the rock.   
Bilbo almost slammed into the boulder when he reached it, his momentum carrying him forward. He dived for the small outcrop, wriggling his way in desperately. He pressed his back into the rock, the furthest he could go and gasped as a bloodied paw the size of his body tried to claw its way in after him. The long claws dug into the earth inches away from Bilbo, and the growling was getting louder. 

Bilbo didn’t know if three second or three minutes had passed when the Orcs finally got control of their Wargs, clearly deciding that Dwarves were a bigger prize then some odd fox. 

Bilbo lay there breathing through his panic. Shaking, he crawled back out from the small, dark space. He stuck his snout out, confirming that the Wargs had gone off again, before scanning the landscape for the Dwarves. He frowned, not seeing them across the expanse of yellow grass. In the corner of his eye however, something moved. Bilbo could have sworn he saw a Dwarven boot disappear behind a large boulder that was a few hundred metres away. 

He was about to follow when and ear-splitting horn blared through the air. Bilbo gaped as a group of Elves on large, beautiful horses came from the tree line, and towards one of the four Wargs who had followed him, who had just come running towards the hunting party.   
It was a quick fight, and both the Orc and Warg fell with arrows protruding out of them. Bilbo stayed where he was until the Elves turned towards where Radagast had led the Orc pack. Crawling out again, Bilbo made way towards the rock where the Dwarves had disappeared behind. 

What he discovered was the last thing he had expected. He stuck his furred head into the dark tunnel that had been dug behind the boulder, going right down into the ground. Judging by the boot marks along the dirt, this is where they had went. Throwing caution to the wind, he climbed down. It was only when he reached the bottom, he looked down to find more evidence of the Dwarves when he noticed red liquid. Quite a lot of it actually, specifically on and coming from his fore paws. 

Bilbo yelped, quickly changing back into a Hobbit when he caught sight of the torn, blistered pads of his paws. Looking down at his now bandaged hands, he could see blood seeping through the white bandages. He groaned, half in pain and half at the thought of what Òin would do to him once he found out. 

Now that he had noticed it again, he could barely twitch a finger without pain sparking its way through his hands and arms. He let out a frustrated sound, turning towards the only path. He tried to walk fast, but the adrenaline of the past hours was rapidly draining from him, and he felt his side throb in response. Luckily, a group of thirteen Dwarves were not particularly fast in narrow passageways. 

Just as he saw light in the distance, he saw the group of Dwarves standing around the exit. 

“We should go back, Bilbo risked his hide for us!” Fili said, stopping in his place. The others stopped too, casting doubtful glances around them.

“No,” Thorin said loudly, “He was foolish, acting like none of us could have fought off those Wargs. If he has survived, he will return. If not, then we keep moving.”

“Thorin Oakenshield, I doubt you would have emerged unharmed from a fight with an Orc pack; which is exactly what would have happened if you would have fought them. Does it not occur to you that fighting would not be the quietest course of action in this circumstance?”

Thorin closed his mouth and turned his head away from the Wizard, refusing to say any more on the matter. Bilbo just thanked whatever deity that had bestowed upon him this perfect opportunity to reveal himself. Stepping forward, he cleared his throat loudly, adjusting his coat which had ridden up his torso.

“Well I’m glad you appreciate me Gandalf.” Bilbo said. There was a roar of cheers from the majority of the Dwarves when they turned to see him.

“Master Boggins!” Kili shouted, smiling lighting up his face.

“Ah, Bilbo; I didn’t doubt you for a second.” Gandalf said, looking at him from below his hat. “But I would advise avoiding rash decisions again.”

Thorin clenched his jaw and turned away, looking towards the exit with a frown. Bilbo walked up next to Gandalf, and was instantly astounded by the sight that was laid out before him. They were standing on an outcrop on a large cliff. There were stairs carved into the stone that led down and into one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen.

“Rivendell.” Bilbo breathed.

The group of Dwarves muttered darkly at the sight, turning to talk softly within themselves. Bilbo looked around in confusion; they were acting like they were on the precipitous of some great evil. 

“This was your plan all along? To seek refuge with the enemy?” Thorin turned and stomped his way up to Bilbo and Gandalf. Bilbo frowned at his approach, something that was reflected by the Wizard. Bilbo knew little of the rivalry between Elves and Dwarves, but just after being almost eaten by trolls and Wargs Bilbo would think that it would by appropriate to put side past grievances for some semblance of rest. 

“You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will you will find in this valley will be what you bring yourself.” Gandalf huffed, looking at the Dwarf with an arched eyebrow. 

“Do you think the Elves would give our quest their blessing? They will try and stop us.” Thorin growled.

“Of course they will, but we have questions that need to be answered.” Gandalf said, straightening, “If we are going to be successful than this will be needed to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me.”

~~

Bilbo sat next to the fire that the Dwarves had made next to the Rivendell fountains. He still couldn’t believe that the Dwarves had used the furniture to build it, he was scandalized that they would even think to do such a thing. They had been offered rooms, but naturally the Dwarves had refused them. Gandalf and Bilbo were the only two who had the sense to agree to their own private quarters, but Kili and Fili had dragged him out here to keep him company. Complete lies; however. They had actually been drafted by Òin to make sure he was cornered when the Healer started his rant. 

“Of all the ignoramus things to do!” He grunted, digging through the supplies he had reluctantly accepted from the Elves. Even he had admitted they weren’t completely useless. “Did I not tell you not to shapeshift?”

“Look Òin, I appreciate the concern but I-“

“What was that? Didn’t catch that.” Òin interrupted, grabbing the skin-changers arm to unwrap the dirtied bandages. Bilbo let out a hiss of pain.

“I said I appreciate the concern but I must insist that-“

“You must resist for what?” Òin pulled the bandage off, and Bilbo breath hitched when he realised that the blood had dried to the wounds, and that it was going to pull.

“No; I said thanks for the concern-“ Bilbo let out a pained yelp was Òin started to peel the bandage back, and he was soon overcame with the sharp, cutting pains in his hand.

“Boys, could you hold his arm in place?” Òin grunted, and Bilbo hadn’t even realised he had been trying to escape the Dwarfs’ grip until the two brothers grabbed him by the shoulders. “It’s easier if we do this quickly, lad.”

Òin practically tore the bandage off. Bilbo cried out in pain and tried to twist away, but Kili and Fili held him fast as Òin quickly grabbed a cloth and put pressure on his palm. Bilbo other hand shook when he realised he still had one more to go. 

Bilbo had calmed down by the time the cloth was pulled away, but he quickly averted his eyes when he caught a glance of the torn skin. Some sort of ointment was applied to his hand before it was wrapped in clean bandage. Bilbo was allowed his hand back, and he cradle it to his chest next to his other one when Òin took it in his own. The second one went much like the first, but this one seemed to have bled less. It made the removing of the bloodied bandage much easier. 

When Bilbo had both hands re-wrapped and cleaned from any infectious substances, Òin sat back unimpressed as Bilbo looked at him miserably.

“Did you have to be so rough?” Bilbo asked as Kili and Fili removed themselves from his back and sat by his side. 

“I wouldn’t have had to be if you had listened to me in the first place, lad.” The old healer said, packing up his medical bag.

“Please, you have to know it was better than fighting them.” Bilbo said, rolling his eyes in the firelight.

“What did you say, lad?” The Dwarf mumbled, turning his back to Bilbo.

“You know,” Bilbo said, squinting suspiciously at Òin, “I’m starting to think you hearing is selective.”

“Oh it definitely is.” Fili said, nodding in agreement.

“No doubt about it.” Kili replied.

Both of the brothers ignored the dirty look Òin threw at them. Which was an impressive feat in Bilbo’s opinion. 

“How’s your side holding up?” Òin asked.

“Well the bandages are still on.” Bilbo said, bringing a bandaged hand to his chest.

“Good, it’ll be unwise to take any more of your bandages off. The more you take them off, the more of the wound gets disturbed. I only had to re-bandage your hands because you went and frolicked around like you were trying to infect them. Now, I took a good look at that ointment those tree-shaggers gave me, apparently it should heal in about three to five day. I have to say, I might not like ‘em but they are decent at healing.” Òin said. Bilbo blanched slightly.

“Tree-shaggers?!” 

“The lot of them.” Kili agreed, nodding wisely. 

“That is incredibly rude towards someone who has offered you shelter and food!” Bilbo exclaimed. 

“The food was rubbish anyway.” Fili said, waving off Bilbo’s concerns. Bilbo sighed, giving up on his quest to introduce manners to the company. He looked up at the stars that were hanging above them, noting the position of the moon in the dark sky.

“It’s late, I’m going to head off to my lovely room which you have all refused.” He said, standing from his place. He was tired after having his wounds assaulted. 

“See you on the morn’, Bilbo.” Kili said, waving him off and Bilbo stepped over the Dwarves’ sleeping bags and towards to his guest room.

Bilbo couldn’t help but notice the beauty of Rivendell in the night, the buildings breathtaking in the light of the moon. He had never been in a place such as this, only heard tales from Gandalf when they use to sit up late and discuss the Wizard’s adventures. Rivendell was a common place that was mentioned in these stories.

Bilbo was slightly shocked that he’d been encouraged to explore the Elven Outpost by the Elves when he had talked to a few at dinner. That, however, would have to wait for the morning. Right now a bed sounded lovely after spending weeks sleeping on the ground. 

As Bilbo made it to his door, he reflected on the prior meeting with the Elves. He wasn’t entirely sure whether they knew about him being a skin-changer, and so far he was entirely fine with that. He was sure that the Elves wouldn’t harm him if they knew anyway. 

Well, he wouldn’t say that he was sure, per say, but he had a moderate amount of faith. It was just that he wasn’t too keen to test that faith as of yet. 

He quickly pulled the travelling cloak from over his head, forgoing his shirt as he almost collapsed into the bed. It had been an entirely too long day, and he swore that his eyes had never been so heavy with sleep. However, when he did lay his head down, it was as if his every thought sprang to mind.

Skin-changers were rumored to be dangerous creatures to many races; devious and selfish animals who gain your trust before they either steal or murder while you slept. And though he fully trusted Gandalf, he had never even seen an Elf before. He had no clue to how they would react, the only points of reference he had were the Hobbits and two Wizards. Both of these were vastly different viewpoints on the matter of his ability. He was practically blind to outside world. At least in his forest he knew the creatures wanted him dead just on the basis of him not being a plant, even if none had acted upon it.

And then there was the matter of the sour faced Dwarf named Thorin, who had been sending Bilbo dirty looks throughout the entire night. He wasn’t too sure of what he did wrong this time, but he had a sneaky suspicion that wounded pride was part of the mixture. Maybe he just rubbed the Dwarf the wrong way, much liked Thorin did to him. Either way, he had no intention of taking any kind of abuse over wounded Dwarven pride. He was a part of this company whether Thorin liked it or not, and he’d much rather be seen as a member who was capable under stressful situations, no matter if he had no training with a sword.

Bilbo shifted and shoved his face into the pillow; he really needed to stop thinking and just sleep. Adjusting his position, he allowed the feeling of complete exhaustion wash over him as he focused on his breathing. Soon enough, he was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter in Rivendell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally one chapter, but I split it in two because I was never happy with it. (Also I'm Australian the 'spelling errors' is just how i spell things sorry) ((knowing me though there will be some actual spelling mistakes rip))

The next morning Bilbo rose early, and after a quick breakfast of a few (five) bread rolls he was on his way to find the Rivendell Library. Bilbo could hardly contain his excitement as he walked quickly through the arching halls. In his years in the Old Forest, books had been a large comfort for Bilbo. He would often spend hours curled up on his chair reading through his spare hours, especially on the days that the isolation had become too much.

Anyone who had ever heard legends of the Old Forest would probably label him as crazy if he ever admitted to being bored within the confines of the trees; it was quite infamous for its hostility towards any traveller. Honestly though, Bilbo found that loosing himself in a book would battle the crushing loneliness that often found its way to the Hobbit. Of course, he had many visits from both Gandalf and Radagast, when they could spare the time and whatnot. But his books were a constant thing in the forest beside him, and he didn’t think he could shake his love for books now even if he tried.

The problem about this plan to find the library, however, was that he wasn’t all that sure where it was. Well, actually he had no idea at all. Bilbo walked further and further, and though the sights were beautiful to gaze at, the uncertain glances over his shoulder proved that he was beginning to get lost.

Bilbo soon found himself in an open area below a set of stairs he had just walked down. There was a water to his right that announced itself with the rushing and burbling sound of water smacking against rock. The area looked out upon the green land below him, which stretched out into the horizon. It was a very serene feeling that washed over Bilbo, something he had not felt in many years. In this moment of time, he was content.

A shuffling of footsteps behind Bilbo made him startle, breaking through the tranquil feeling like a rock through a window. The hobbit spun on his heel, and looked up.

“Oh! Hello.” Bilbo breathed, surprised to find Lord Elrond himself standing before him.

“Greeting, _Ereb kelvar fea_.” Elrond said, inclining his head. Bilbo blinked up in confusion; he felt entirely out of his element. “I have been seeking your company, I find myself to be quite curious about you.”

“Indeed?” Bilbo said, suspicion inflating in his chest. Well, it would seem that the Elves knew about his little ability.

“Peace; I am not here to do any harm,” Elrond said, smiling down at the Hobbit. “I just find myself wondering why the Skin-changer of the Old Forest seems to have joined a quest with Dwarves.”

“Ah. So, you’ve heard of me.” Bilbo mumbled uncomfortably, rocking on his feet slightly.

“There is a recent tale of a Hobbit-like creature, who can change their skin into a beastly animal, resides in that ancient forest.” Elrond said, and Bilbo could have sworn he heard sympathy in his voice. Against his better judgement, he felt himself calming.

“I assure you that I am not ‘beastly’.” Bilbo said, wrinkling his nose. It was quite obvious that this rumour had come from drunk Hobbits.

“Yes, I do believe you are not; Gandalf speaks very highly of you.” Said Elrond, and Bilbo felt the last of his anxiety fall away. He was quite sure that these Elves wold not harm him.

“Right. Well, I am on this journey because Gandalf asked it of me.” Bilbo said, unsure of how much he should talk to Elrond about their quest. To save himself from further wrath from Thorin, he decided to keep it to none.

Elrond nodded, quirking his lips up at the Hobbit.

“Yes, he does seem to be very adept at convincing people.” Bilbo let out a chuckle, ‘convincing’ was a very polite way of saying ‘forcing people into situations’. By the small spark of amusement in Elrond’s face, he knew exactly what Bilbo was thinking. “I can’t help but notice you seem lost.”

Bilbo perked up slightly.

“I am; I’m looking for the library.” Bilbo said.

“You have walked off the path to it quite a while ago,” Elrond said, “Retrace your steps; it’s near the dining area where we shared dinner last night.”

“Well, I do seem to have gone astray quite a bit.” Bilbo said, looking up at the steps. He had passed the dining area quite a while ago.

“I wish you luck in finding it. Unfortunately I must leave you to meet with your leader and Gandalf. It was a pleasure to meet you, Bilbo Baggins. You take after your mother quite a bit.” And with that, Elrond had swept away, leaving Bilbo blinking in stunned silence.

Elrond had, apparently, known Bilbo’s mother. He smiled slightly, shooting a glance towards where Lord Elrond had disappeared to. Knowing his mother, that was quite a compliment in Bilbo’s opinion. He vaguely remembered his mother’s stories; he could faintly recall her telling him about the Lord of Rivendell.

Still with his lips quirked up slightly, he climbed back up the stairs. He was almost back to the dining area when Thorin turned the corner, and their eyes met.

Thorin paused, and seemed to come to a decision as he changed his path towards Bilbo, still with that annoyed look he got whenever Bilbo was in line of sight.

“Halfling; I must speak with you.” Bilbo bristled faintly at the ‘Halfling’ comment, and could help but reply with snark.

“Shouldn’t you be meeting with Elrond?” Bilbo said, leaning against the wall next to him as he readied himself for whatever the Dwarf was going to throw at him.

“The Elf can wait,” Thorin said, “You on the other hand are jeopardising the company.”

Bilbo eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

“Wandering into a Troll camp is unacceptable; you almost got the entire company killed!” Thorin growled, and Bilbo felt his anger spike alarmingly. “And running off by yourself to be bait for Wargs among a group of fully capable Dwarves was-“

“Excuse me, King under the mountain.” Bilbo hissed, and he was very pleased to see the shocked and indignant look on the Dwarfs face at being cut off. “Whatever you may think; it was your nephews plan for me to go into that Troll camp. Which, mind you, would have gone perfectly well if you Dwarves had stuck to my plan. But no, maybe it’s because I’m a Hobbit or maybe it’s because you can’t trust a shape-changer, but _you_ were the one to go crashing into the clearing like you were expecting me to be half eaten already, due to my obvious ‘ineptitude’ at everything.”

Thorn looked half annoyed and half unsure of how he should reply.

“Oh, and let’s not miss that _tiny_ detail of me saving you from being flattened by a trolls fist. Or even when you had absolutely decimated my first plan, and I came up with a completely new one which _worked_ , thank you very much. And about me ‘running off’, Thorin Oakenshield, we both know that we could not have afforded to draw the attention of the entire Orc pack!”

“Halfing, you-“ Thorin was cut off again.

“And stop calling me ‘Halfling’! It’s incredibly offensive and I hope that even you have enough manners to keep that in mind.” Bilbo huffed, glaring up at Thorin. The dwarfs jaw clenched as he looked away from the Skin-changer. Silence stretched between them, but Bilbo kept his gaze locked into the side of the Dwarfs face. He would get an apology out of this Dwarf even if it killed him!

Bilbo however, was slightly shocked by the Dwarfs next words.

“How are your hands?”

Bilbo blinked, all anger sweeping out of him and replaced by bafflement.

“My what?”

“Your hands, they were injured during your….fight with the Trolls.” Thorin still refused to look at Bilbo, but right now that did not seem to be a big issue. The Hobbit was stunned by the sudden change in topic.

“Uh….well, Òin cleaned them up last night. They should be healed in about three days.” Said Bilbo hesitantly, unsure why Thorin was asking him.

Thorin nodded, the awkwardness of the situation climbing as Bilbo shuffled on his feet.

“I must go meet with Lord Elrond and Gandalf.” Thorin declared suddenly, which seemed to be something that was happening regularly. He side stepped Bilbo and stomped out of sight.

Bilbo closed his gaping mouth and shook his head in confusion. He glanced around, wondering what in Valar had just happened, clenching and unclenching his hands with restless energy that came when he was nervous.

Bilbo supposed that might have been…perhaps the most evasive apology he would ever receive. He was still unsure whether it was actually an apology.

Bilbo sighed, before he stated to look for the library again. Hopefully he wouldn’t have any more interruptions, and he wondered if books were worth all this trouble anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So guess who rose from the dead? Well actually I ran out of Skinchanger!Bilbo fics to read and decided to write my own, heh. So I hope yall enjoy, and please inform me of any errors found. Also please keep in mind I'm Australian so please excuse my obsessive use of the letter 'u'; it's just how we do it down here.


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